


Catastrophe and Cure

by seven (sevenpoints)



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Dom/sub, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-10
Updated: 2012-12-10
Packaged: 2017-11-20 19:01:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/588629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevenpoints/pseuds/seven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eric and Zach have a little D/s thing going on.  By the end of this fic, they don’t anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Kinks: Ahem. Angst, biting, blindfold, bondage, cock ring, cum play, D/s, delayed orgasms, dirty talk, douche, food!kink, light-touch orgasm, snow blowing, temperature play, and a threesome. Oh shit, and word!kink! That brings us to 16 kinks in all and yet, I’m calling this a romance. Trust me, okay?

“Tell me what’s happening, boy.”

The man at Eric’s feet shifted on his knees.  “My dick’s getting hard for you, sir.”

Fantastic.  “Is it wet?”

Another shift, larger this time.  “Shit, yes sir, it’s dripping.”

“Language, Zach.”  He knew the other man loved the way his accent twisted his name.  “We’ve talked about this.  The only filth I want coming out of your mouth is the filth I ask for directly.”

Dark eyes met his.  “I’m sorry, sir.  Please punish me for my transgression.”

Eric proceeded to do just that.  Not with a paddle—that was on their Do Not Want list—but with a long blue taper. The candle heated its wax just hot enough to leave lingering redness when he dripped it all over Zach’s chest and hips, making him writhe in spite of the restrains pinning down his limbs.  He knew that if he could, Zach would be hissing, whispering how much he loved this, how much he wanted more, please, more.

Unfortunately for him, Zach couldn’t whisper anything on account of the gag, a vivid aqua ball that set off his stretched pink lips and blazing brown eyes.  If it weren’t for the gag, Zach would also have begged Eric to please, please sir, let him cum, please he’ll good, just please!  Let him cum!

Since Zach couldn’t say anything, Eric was free to use his own judgment.  By his best guess, Zach could stand to go a good while longer without coming, and the triple cock ring he’d clamped around him ensured that he would.

He didn’t cum when Eric let the candle range lower, leaving ultramarine streaks over Zach’s pale inner thighs and knees, or the flushed red skin of his pelvis, just millimeters shy of his caged cock and balls.

He didn’t cum when Eric, having burnt the candle down to a stub, began to revisit the mild burns, picking off the wax and worrying at the reddened skin with his lips, teeth and tongue to make them bruise darker, paying special attention to one above Zach’s left nipple, in the spot where his federation insignia would rest when he pulled on the blue costume in the morning.

He didn’t even cum when Eric knelt between his thighs, stroking his own cock contemplatively as he told Zach how sexy he looked, gagged and helpless and spotted like a fucking leopard.

Zach didn’t cum when he watched Eric wag his cock at him, teasingly, but it was a close thing.

In fact, Zach didn’t cum at all until much, much later, when Eric was buried inside him and licking his lips around the gag, sucking at them as well as he could and Zach was choking on his screams as Eric finally, finally flipped the ring open.

The last things he saw were Eric’s endless brown eyes, and then darkness swamped him.

 

+++

 

Two days later beside his pool, Zach had some explaining to do.

“ _What_ is all over your chest, Quinto?”

He looked down at himself, raising a blithe abbreviated eyebrow at the fading love bites revealed by his swimsuit.  “Chris, if you have to ask…”

“Okay, I don’t have to ask, but I want to know.  What the fuck do you two get up to in the bedroom?”

Zach spoke before Eric could politely remind him that it was really none of his business.  “Are you sure you want to know?”

Chris blushed at the tease in his voice, but nodded stubbornly.

Eric couldn’t resist a little dig.  “Would you describe your curiosity as ‘morbid’ or ‘avid,’ Christopher?”

Zach rescued him before he could flush any darker.  “It’s okay, Eric.  I don’t mind explaining.”  He turned on his lounger, hiking up his shorts a little so he could sit up without popping out a plumber’s crack.  Chris’ eyes widened upon seeing the marks scattered all over his thighs.

“Jesus Christ, how far up do those go?”

“They kinda don’t stop.  Now.”  He pursed his lips, trying to think of the best way to start.  “Have you ever gotten a little rough in the bedroom?  I don’t mean whips and chains, just, you know, throwing your weight around a little?”

“…Yes.  Once or twice.”

“Did you hold your partner down, maybe?”

“Yeah.”

“Did they like it?”

This was not at all how Chris expected this conversation to go.  “They didn’t complain.”

“Well, that’s the basic dynamic.  You were dominating your partner, whether you knew it or not at the time, and they trusted you to do it, and you both had fun.  That’s how it starts.”

“Okay, but none of that explains the marks.”

“I’m just getting started.  See, I like getting held down.  It’s thrilling and oddly relaxing to give up control, if only in a sexual context.  I have to be in control of every other aspect of my life, but in private, with Eric, I can let go of all that tension and just obey.”

“And I like controlling him.”  Eric knew Chris was a little in awe of him; their preparation for the fight scene basically consisted of him throwing Chris around for hours at a time.  He took unfair advantage of this knowledge now, pulling a little weight behind his words.  “It’s…fun.  It’s fun to watch Zach and know that all he can do is respond to my actions.  To know that I can do anything to him,  _anything_ , and all he’ll do is submit to me.”

He got up from his lounger on the far side of Zach, and stood between Chris and his lover, towering over them both.  “You really want to know how Zach got those marks?”

Chris blinked and Eric took a moment to enjoy the way he engulfed the younger man in his shadow.  “See, he disobeyed me.  One of my rules,” he should say “our rules” but he doesn’t, “is that Zach has to watch his mouth while we play.  I like this rule because it’s so hard for him to follow.” 

He joined Zach on his lounger, ignoring the ominous creak as he settled on one knee, sitting tall enough to still tower a little.  “When he gets worked up, you wouldn’t believe the filth that pours off his cultivated tongue.”  He let his eyes settle on Zach’s, warm and fond and also predatory, and watched the telltale flush of arousal spread over his neck before he turned back to Chris.

“But rules are rules, and so I had to punish him.”

A baited moment while he waited for Chris to crack.  The blue eyes were looking a little less sharp, a little less focused, but no less avid.  “What did you do to him?”

Eric detailed the episode, careful not to forget a single whimper or squirm of pain on Zach’s part, while the object of his tale flushed brighter and brighter, slowly melting back against the chair as Eric skimmed his hands over him, giving each bruise its due attention.  By the time he finished, both young men were heavy-lidded and breathless, and Eric couldn’t resist a shiver of pleasure at the obvious evidence of his power over them.

“Then again,” he concluded, “seeing is believing, Pine.  I wouldn’t want you to just take my word for it.”  He ran his hands over Zach again, lingering at the large bruise above his heart.  “Would you like that, Zach?  Do you want to show Chris how gorgeous you are when you submit to me?”

From the look of him, Zach was already settling into sub space, drifting down through the layers of his mind to curl right at the very heart of it.  “Yes, sir.”

“Tell him so.  Ask him nicely.”

“ _Please, Chris_.”  The fervent whisper had the other man licking his lips, visibly enchanted by the ardor shimmering in Zach’s eyes.  “I…want you to see.”

Eric pitched his voice low.  “Do you want to play with him?”  Even lower.  “Do you want him to play with  _you_?”

“ _Yes_.”  Zach was getting so wound up he would start whimpering any moment, but that was all right, because Chris was effectively ensnared, if the tent in his trunks was any indication.

“I’m not gonna make this invitation twice, Pine.  You in or out?”

He didn’t really need to ask.  “I’m in.”


	2. Chapter 2

“I won’t hurt Zach.”

Both dark-haired men regarded Chris, one quizzically, one reprovingly. The latter spoke. “I wouldn’t allow you to anyway, Pine. That’s a right that you have to earn, not something I’d just hand out like a party favor.”

His point made, Eric returned to his task of cuffing Zach to the bed, having already spread the gore-tex sheet beneath him. His plans for the evening were rather messy and he didn’t want Zach to be preoccupied with his dry cleaning in the middle of a scene.

When Chris began to help him, cuffing Zach’s ankles to the foot of the bed, Eric raised an eyebrow but made no comment beyond telling him exactly how tightly to fasten them, just as Chris made no comment when he tied the blindfold over Zach’s eyes, careful not to catch his hair in the knot.

In fact, neither of them spoke until Eric left Zach with a kiss and headed out to the kitchen, where he pulled a bowl out of the refrigerator and popped it into the microwave.

“How are you doing so far, Pine?” he asked, his eyes daring Chris to waver or look away.

He was pleased to see Chris meet the challenge. “Just fine, although I’d like to know just what I’m getting into here. Zach’s tied down and blindfolded. What are you gonna do to him now?”

“Nothing he won’t like. Chris, you don’t understand. It’s not really about me doing whatever I want. It’s about knowing what Zach wants, and giving it to him. Even when I claim to be punishing him, it’s nothing he hasn’t begged me to do before.”

“So…is Zach a masochist?”

Eric winced. “It’s not that simple. He likes being hurt, a little, but masochism goes beyond physical pain. Those people actually want to be abused and disrespected. For Zach, a little pain is just a sensation, one that he can’t experience without someone he trusts, and the punishments are just another level of play. I mean, if he ever actually pissed me off or vice versa, we’d have a long and agonizing discussion about it instead of just fucking each other unconscious.”

The microwave beeped, accentuating the way Chris’ eyebrows disappeared into his hairline, and with a wink and a pause to grab a spoon, Eric led the way back to the bedroom.

The sight of Zach waiting patiently in his bonds in spite of the erection arching over his belly was enough to make Eric want to forego his plans and just get straight to the fucking, but the smell drifting up out of the bowl was too heady to resist. He stirred its contents slowly to release more of the scent into the air, and grinned when Zach sniffed, then moaned.

“This is Bana’s Butterscotch Brandy, brewed by yours truly.” He held out the spoon for Chris to taste. “You’d be amazed what you pick up in forty years of bachelordom.”

Any annoyance Chris felt at being spoon-fed disappeared when he licked up a taste of the sauce. Eric watched the surprise and pleasure wash over his face as the burst of buttery sweetness was followed by a melting heat that concentrated in a slightly bitter burn on the back of the tongue.

“Oh my god,” Chris groaned, and Zach swallowed audibly in sympathy. “You did not make that. I think I’m drunk already.”

“Wait. It gets better.” Twirling the spoon in the liqueur, he bent to drizzle honey-gold in a curlicue down Zach’s chest to pool in his navel. “Go ahead, have a taste.”

While Chris did that, eliciting all kinds of delicious sounds from Zach, who was swallowing continuously now. Eric took the opportunity to strip off his own bathing suit and, as an afterthought, peeled off Chris’ as well. The younger man was rather preoccupied—it was tricky, getting the sticky liqueur out of Zach’s chest hair—but raised his legs obligingly so Eric could lay him bare.

That ass held him transfixed for a moment, but a sighing whimper called him back to the present where Chris was wriggling his tongue in Zach’s belly button, struggling to lap up every last trace of butterscotch from its folds. “Mmmmm,” he rumbled. “Does he always make this much noise?”

“Just about. He’s responsive as a violin, and about as finely strung.” At Chris’ stare, he winked again. “Oh, you two don’t hold the monopoly on flowery language here, Pine. I was turning a grandiloquent phrase before you even knew how to read.” He scooped up the bowl again from where he’d set it on the nightstand. “Top you off?”

“Yes, thank you.”

This time, the butterscotch descended in dizzy patterns all across Zach’s chest, pooling in the hollow of his throat and spiraling to glint, delicately, around Zach’s rosy nipples. It made a big mess, but no worries—he and Chris could manage, and they did, both of their tongues slipping and sliding over Zach’s body while he tossed his head, unable to see which touch came from which man but forced to endure it all, the blindfold ensuring that the tactile and olfactory stimulation flowed straight into his pleasure centers without medium. When they got to his nipples and started sucking and scraping at the firm, pillowy nubs in concert, Zach’s spasms of lust almost bucked them both off in spite of the restraints. It took a joint effort to hold him down until the twin nubs were shining clean, and completely soaked with spit.

Eric licked up a long line of liqueur and fed it to Zach, growling deep in his chest when Zach sucked it off his tongue. “Good boy,” he whispered, swallowing all the hungry little sounds straining in Zach’s throat. “You want some more?”

“God, yes please sir! More!”

“A regular Oliver Twist,” Chris marveled, and Eric had to chuckle as he traced lacy amber fire over Zach’s belly and hips, the arching musculature more delectable than anything he could brew. The other man licked his lips. “Do you want to see, Zach?” he asked. Careful flicks of Eric’s wrist painted harlequin diamonds over Zach’s cock, his movements precise even as he glared at Chris for taking liberties. It wasn’t for him to decide the rules, but Zach was responding before he could say so.

“Yes, please, let me see, sir,” and Eric tells himself that it’s the blindfold that makes him use the title for the wrong man, as if he belongs to Chris instead of to him.

He must have made a sound, or spoken, because Chris froze as he reached for the blindfold and turned to regard him, pale blue eyes meeting deepest brown, and they glared for a long moment before Chris backed down. It was Eric who slid off the blindfold, and Eric who shaded Zach’s eyes as he blinked in the mid-afternoon light, but it was Chris who tore their gazes apart with a swipe of his tongue, sending Zach arching back into the pillows.

Eric swallowed his resentment. This was about Zach, and Zach had said he wanted to play with Chris and, son of a bitch, this had all been Eric’s brilliant idea in the first place, so all he could do was go along even as he felt his control siphoning away.

He didn’t want to think about where it was collecting.

Thankfully, as far as distractions went you could definitely do worse than one Zachary Quinto, spread out naked and covered in butterscotch liqueur. He joined Chris in his efforts to clean those glistening hips, bearing down with their tongues until all they could taste was Zach, clean and slightly salty under the sweet. There wasn’t enough alcohol in the liqueur to get them intoxicated, but there were enough hormones breathing out of Zach’s skin to make anyone feel a little drunk.

Their tongues met over Zach’s cock, both of them watching the way his eyes swam in and out of focus as he struggled to watch. Their temples banged together more than once, teeth clashing as they serviced him, competing to be the one to bring him the most pleasure. Growls filled the air, with Zach’s rising moans weaving in and out of them in exquisite counterpoint.

“Don’t you cum, boy,” Eric bit out. “Don’t you dare cum until you’re told.”

“I won’t!” Zach wailed even as shudders wracked his frame, and the room fell perfectly silent even of breath as Zach clamped his muscles down around his orgasm, not allowing a single drop of it to leak out of his slit.

“Holy shit,” Chris hissed. “I didn’t know that was possible. Doesn’t it hurt?”

“Yes!” Zach gasped. “It hurts, it hurts, sir, please let me cum? Please…”

“Shh.” Eric pressed kisses to Zach’s belly, holding him down through his tremors. “Soon, baby.” He trailed more kisses up his slightly sticky abdomen, lingering on a collarbone, before rising to his knees. His own cock could stand the sight of Zach going to pieces for only so long before he had to do something about it, and he cocked his head at Chris, inviting him to join him.

“You’re joking.”

Eric just shrugged and continued to stroke himself. “Suit yourself.” He knew the other man wouldn’t be able to resist the opportunity, and suppressed a smirk when he shifted to kneel on Zach’s other side.

“He likes this?”

“Oh yeah. Don’t you, boy, you love it when I paint you up like the whore you are…”

Zach’s mmmf! was probably a stifled curse.

“God, Zach, I had no idea you were such a fucking slut,” Chris groaned, his hips jerking on the last word as he shot wildly, spattering Zach, the bed sheet and Eric’s thighs in the process. Eric followed shortly after, practice allowing him to aim right between Zach’s parted lips as he did and yeah, that was fucking marvelous, but it was even better to watch Zach swallow it all down and snake his tongue out to lap up more, more, more.

Eric helped him, trailing his fingers through all the mess and feeding it to Zach, panting from his own orgasm as he watched Zach suck their cum off his fingers. He wished he could give him more, could get hard again and fuck him and cum on him over and over until his entire body was plastered with it and it was then that he realized, with a vicious stab of jealousy, that Chris was still hard.

“God I wanna fuck you, Zach.” The other man’s voice, low and harsh like a body shot, had Zach whimpering around Eric’s fingers, breaking eye contact for the second time that day to look at Chris instead.

Eric asked the question even though he knew the answer would be a knife in his chest. “You want…him, Zach?” He can’t say the words “Chris” and “fuck” and “you,” at least not in the order he would like.

“Please, please sir,” and he’s begging Eric but he’s still fucking looking at Chris. “I want him so fuhhh…so bad. Please.”

He tried not to think, only act, as he found the lube and the condoms. Chris made a face at the latter but Eric wasn’t about to let him fuck Zach bareback, even though Chris was the picture of glowing all-American health. He told himself he might be protecting Zach from a scorching case of genital herpes, but he knew the real reason. 

In fact, the longer he watched, the less comfortable Eric felt. He and Zach were a matched set, but the man settling between Zach’s legs now was a polar opposite, light where they are dark, and the contrast was so wrenchingly beautiful that Eric almost forgot how much he hated Chris right now, and how lonely he suddenly felt, a spectator in the wings.

When Chris slid inside Zach’s body, every muscle in Eric’s body clenched with the urge to punch the man.

He couldn’t stand to watch the way they moved together, so perfectly synched as though they’d been doing it for years, as if this weren’t their first time. Instead he busied himself at Zach’s side, running his hands over his chest, holding him close. He tried to kiss him, to fuck him with his tongue the way Chris was—shit—but Zach kept pulling away to gasp, pant, whimpermoan and finally Eric quit trying and just attacked his ear, because that way he could pretend that some of the sounds were for him.

He was still trying to ignore what was happening, bearing down on the voices and movements with a stubborn mental NO, and his surprising success just meant that it came as a shock when Zach threw his head back and screamed, the sound exploding in Eric’s ears and FUCK he’d never heard him do that, had never made him do that, not in all their time together.

He whipped his head up to glean some clue as to how Chris had done it, and saw the answer in Zach’s deeply crimson cock held captive in the other man’s fist, denied its release for the second time in less than an hour.

“Shit, Pine, you fucking sadist—!”

“Wanted to do this,” Chris interrupted, and he pulled out of Zach and bent down to swallow him in the same movement.

Zach screamed again, silently this time, and writhed so hard Eric had to scrabble hold him down, lest the cuffs leave bruises that the costume wouldn’t hide. He whispered in his ear, easy easy easy, but knew he might as well be talking to a wall—Zach was deaf and blind to him, conscious only of Chris’ lips around his cock, milking him for every last drop.

The next thing he knew he was being shoved aside, and Chris was sealing his lips over Zach’s, feeding his cum back to him while Zach moaned weakly, taking it from him and swallowing it all down and god damn it, that’s another thing he’d never thought to try.

“God, you’re fucking brilliant,” Chris was saying. “Luminous.” A kiss. “Irradiant.” Another. “Lambent.” His gaze drifted over Zach’s face and settled on the abbreviated brows that made him look so strangely delicate, alien even without the ears. “Halcyon.”

Each word threatened to pull a whimper from Eric’s chest. This wasn’t fucking fair. Zach was his. Zach was his, and they fit, they were beautiful together, they matched each other perfectly, and Chris was ruining all of that.

This threesome had been the biggest fucking mistake of Eric’s entire fucking life.

“We—” His voice broke off and he cursed. “We need to get Zach cleaned up so he can sleep.”

It took a joint effort to get Zach upright and into the shower. He was still in his subspace, in that dreamy stage when he just wanted to be held. Eric found himself feeling grateful for Chris, who could wrap himself around Zach while Eric got what they needed.

“Have you ever used an anal douche before?” he asked Chris, and Zach managed a shudder of anticipation at the query.

“No, but it’s pretty straightforward, right?”

Eric explained, and let Chris do it, all the while telling himself that he was doing this for Zach, because…son of a bitch…because Chris needed to know how to do this for him, after.

The flood of hot water in his over-sensitive channel had Zach whimpering, almost crying, as his cock twitched again. It didn’t get as hard as before, it couldn’t, but the erection was there and needed to be taken care of. After making sure that Chris was holding him securely, Eric dropped to his knees. Zach’s cock had to hurt from being denied twice, too much to bear much stimulation now, so Eric worked him very, very gently, using no more than a stream of cool air that he blew right on the glans. He knew that his breath would feel icy in the heat of the shower, and it was only a few minutes before Zach was shivering through one last orgasm that left him utterly spent.

Eric held Zach as Chris dried him, and continued to hold him as they led him back to his bed, where Chris stripped off the protective top sheet and peeled back the covers.

Eric held him a few minutes longer, stroking his damp hair and whispering praise until he sunk into dreamless sleep.

Then he held him a few minutes after that, his sad eyes drinking in one last look. The inky fan of lashes. The utter lassitude of his limbs. The ever-present stubble framing those perfect, perfect lips, quirked even in sleep.

By the time he let go, Chris had dressed and left the bedroom. Eric followed suit, unsurprised to see that the younger man had gone no farther than the living room.

Chris stood when he entered, and they stared at each other, both knowing what needed to be said but not knowing how to say it.

“I’m gonna go,” Eric announced abruptly. He couldn’t think of any other way to put it.

There was a pause, and then Chris swallowed, new respect showing in his eyes. “It’s okay,” he assured him. “I’ll take care of Zach.”

Eric nodded distantly, sadness settling in his gut.

 

“I know you will.”


End file.
